Tag: Stress

Pace Yourself

Lanté came bearing gifts. Thank you, Lanté.

Previous we’ve had some discussions about movies. Rather obviously our tastes in movies differ, like any two people, but Friday he brought me one of his favorites. Arnold Schwarzenegger in Predator. In an attempt to prove a point, I assume. 

Now I’m not going to hide behind my distaste for movies with any hint of testosterone jacked rogue military special “op” teams hell bent on killing non-American’s, or Arnold’s acting, for that matter. But both his acting and the movie, “on the whole,” weren’t too bad. I was very surprised.

Sure this film, like any, has it’s flaws. Big one’s too. But on other levels it’s quite a successful endeavor. With respect to the state of movies today, especially…

Continue reading Pace Yourself

Until I Hear

Following the local news these days is much more appealing to me than watching a bunch of “liberals” give each other hand jobs in Denver. I don’t know about you…

That and I dare not forget to mention that and the Maple Leaf tainted meat recall has grown to just short of 250 some odd products? And my Grandfathers doctors still aren’t sure why he’s sick? With their efforts now concentrating on his stomach? Continue reading Until I Hear

Tainted Meat

I was a little off my game yesterday, if you will. I went to visit my Grandfather in the hospital and I, obviously had a lot on my mind. 

He seems to be feeling, a least a bit better. He was out of bed, giving his characteristic hand gestures (Oops I don’t mean him singing, rather his “stupid asshole” “pusha” gesture) and I felt a bit better after witnessing that. But not knowing why he was admitted in the first place is still weighing heavily on my mind. They’re running tests. Continue reading Tainted Meat

Going Grey

Now that the winter facial hair growing season has begun I’m reminded of something about myself that I’ve never much thought about. Past the initial shock, and attempts in years past to hide it, of course. I’m going grey. I suspect I’m a lot grey up top, too (shaving my scalp every few days prevents me from knowing for sure).

Which, as I said got me to thinking about a tuft of hair. Why? Not why is it grey. But why buy in to someone’s opinion of what having grey hair superficially means? Granted my attempts to dye it were a good many years ago, and yes I realize how silly and vain it all was. But no matter how much I’ve fought it I was and probably still am a drone to the hype. That and, let’s face it that the girl in the bar won’t talk to me with a grey beard, eh Keith? Continue reading Going Grey